Heartless (10 page)

Ken smiled and gave me an appraising look. He shook my hand when I held it out. At the most he looked to be ten years older than Josh, with fairer, slightly curled hair and a craggy yet charismatically handsome face.

“I’m not sure what I deserve to have the two of you spending such a special evening in my establishment.” Part of his charm must be his sophisticated humility. This place was hopping, practically every night according to Josh, and Ken seemed bemused and delighted by his success, which of course made him that much more charming to his patrons, several of whom were trying to catch his eye as he hung out at our table.

He glanced at our wine glasses. “You have everything you need?” He asked me directly and I was wondering he was trying to determine whether or not I was old enough to drink in his ‘establishment’, but I was probably just being paranoid again.

“Who can go wrong with bread and wine?” I said, and then felt like an idiot after, as if I meant, you’d be a lame restauranteur if you messed up bread and wine. Of course, what I meant was, bread and wine—heck, bread and
water
—were ambrosia to me given how I was feeling tonight, but I was the one who was lame when it came to making charming adult small talk. For nearly a whole year I didn’t talk at all and my skills still seemed to be arrested in my adolescent development. So far, this was the best I could do ‘faking’ it.

“Come on,” Ken said. “I want you to see something.” He turned on his heel and we had no choice but to jump up and follow his lead. I draped my napkin over my chair and then Josh took my hand and we headed toward the back of the restaurant. I noticed several tables of dinner-goers watching us enviously as we followed the boss-man.

Ken held open the kitchen door and we were blasted by the cacophony within. This was a room behind the one that opened into the restaurant, where it seemed the bulk of the preparation took place. I’d never been in the kitchen of a busy, top notch restaurant before. The activity was overwhelming. Everyone was so focused.

Ken guided us through, making sure not to get in anyone’s way. He pointed out the different work stations—another form of Greek to me—and I finally had to admit to Ken that I couldn’t cook. Not at all. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He quickly turned back to Josh.

“Is this her only flaw?” he asked.

Josh laughed. “Only you would see it as a flaw. I consider it an idiosyncrasy.”

Ken stopped at a counter and pushed one of the white-capped sous-chefs away. He grabbed a knife from the wall mount and an onion from a huge basket on the floor. “You will at least learn how to cut an onion. I will not let you leave my kitchen without learning something basic, and very useful. Onions underpin many recipes.”

He brandished the knife at me. It glinted, catching the overheard lighting. “But you must promise me that this will be lesson number one of the
hundreds
you must learn to be a decent cook.”

I gulped. I had to promise? “Will you accept a pledge of good intention?” I said hesitantly.

He laughed heartily and then proceeded to teach me how to properly slice an onion. Interestingly enough, I found the tutorial to be rather fascinating, which surprised me.

By the time we got back to our table, steak knives had been added to our cutlery settings, and, a moment after we sat down, our filet mignons were served. (I had been overwhelmed by the menu and so had followed Josh’s lead with the meal as well as the wine.)

“Wasn’t that interesting about the candle or cook top flame helping to burn away the onion fumes so you don’t cry?” I said. “And I never would have thought you had to ‘cut along the grain’ of an onion, as if it was a piece of wood or something.”

“Like with a lot of things, if you go against the flow of nature, you can make things more difficult than they need to be,” said Josh.

I nodded. That made sense. I sliced a piece of meat and laid it on my tongue, where it practically melted, it was so tender. I followed with a sip of wine. I already felt a light buzz and I was only halfway through my glass.

“How do you know Kenny?”

Josh finished chewing before he answered. “His older brother dated my mom for a while.”

I didn’t necessarily want to turn the topic back to moms but this sounded interesting. “I thought you said she didn’t ‘bring guys around’. And wouldn’t he be kind of young for her?”

He laughed. “My mom’s still human, Heather. And Kenny’s got 3 older brothers—that’s why I call him Kenny, because they all do. His oldest brother, Michael was my mom’s boyfriend for like 4 years. They’re still friends actually.”

“Oh. That sounds nice.” And healthy, I thought, as I dug into my potato. Just the fact that Josh thought of his mother as human was healthy. When had I lost touch with my mother’s humanness? Was it around the time she turned into an obedient lap dog for Pastor Guthrie? And then encouraged me to do the same? I was about thirteen and beginning to have questions. My mother had advised me to talk to Pastor Guthrie. Big mistake. I think I gave up on my mother’s humanness when she took his word over mine. I set my fork down. This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about mothers.

“Are you okay?” asked Josh.

I shook off my mopey face and smiled at him. “Just full, I guess.”

He set his own knife and fork down and raised an eyebrow my way. In a low suggestive voice, he said, “I was kind of hoping you had room for dessert.”

I gave him a sideways glance, wary now. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Even I could hear the odd strain in my voice. Josh looked at me, the skin between his eyebrows tightening with concern. Did he just blush? It was hard to tell in this light. He exhaled harshly, leaned back against his chair.

“Nothing like that. Geez, Heather. What kind of a creep do you think I am?” He tossed his napkin on the table and I was suddenly afraid he was going to get up and storm out. A feeling of shame spread throughout my body making my cheeks hot and my eyes tear up. I pushed my napkin into my face.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re a creep at all. You just sounded so…”

“So ‘what’? So hungry for dessert? Which I was looking forward to.”

“I can’t explain it. I was thinking about something else and… I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Heather.” His voice was hushed and serious. I felt his hand on mine and I tried not to flinch. He pulled one of my hands off my napkin-draped face and drew it towards himself. Not to his lap, but somewhere near his heart. Half my napkin fell from face and one of my eyes met both of his. “Heather,” he repeated. “Maybe, a long time ago…”

Oh no, I did not want to go there. I closed my one open eye and tried to grab my hand back, but he held it tight, wouldn’t let it go.

His whisper grew a bit more intense. “Maybe a long time ago you kept your mouth shut when you shouldn’t have. I don’t know. And you don’t have to tell me anything. But I need to tell you that you don’t ever need to think you have to keep your mouth shut around me. I know something hurts you, deep down inside, and maybe one day you’ll share it with me…”

No, no, no. That will never happen.

“Heather, open your eyes and look at me.”

He was being so nice. I at least owed him that. For all I knew half the restaurant was watching our table thinking he really
was
a creep. I put my napkin back on my lap. He was still holding my hand.

“Look, it wouldn’t be honest to say I wasn’t hungry for you, too, in all kinds of ways.”

I felt my cheeks go pink again and I reached for my wine glass with my free hand. I swallowed the last glug of my wine.

“But I really did just want to order dessert. Off the menu. Those other appetites I plan to keep in check. Maybe forever.”

My eyes darted to his. Forever? His eyes danced when he saw my wide, worried look.

“I’m glad to see that you’re not a huge fan of that kind of forever.”

Our waiter came and removed our dinner plates. To him, we probably looked like were being romantic and holding hands, albeit a bit awkwardly.

I finally mustered the courage to speak again. “I thought I was ready for all this. For you, dating, places like this.” I gestured at the bustling, grooving energy laid out before us. “But I don’t think I was. And I think you have this idea that I’m someone that I’m not.” I could feel beach-girl riling inside me. She didn’t want her cover blown. “I’m really not as strong as you think I am.”

Josh didn’t reply for a moment. Then he sighed, and I thought, this is it, I’ve finally convinced him I’m not worth the effort. Some part of me felt satisfied, but I couldn’t tell which part, because I also felt my heart contract in unexpected pain.

“You know what I think? I think that
you think
that you’re not as strong as you really are. That’s the root problem. I can bide my time while you sort that out, while you recover your strength, let’s say. But you won’t do that by retreating into some shell. Even if it’s a shell you’ve needed for protection to get over the trauma of losing your parents, and whatever else is haunting you.”

I tried hard not to shut my eyes and pull back into myself. I listened, I breathed, stretched my boundaries, while Josh kept talking.

“I think I came into your life because you
are
ready. Remember, courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s activating the strength to overcome what’s frightening. So, yeah, maybe you’re not as strong as you want to be, but you’ll have to test your strength, work it, to grow it. And I know you did that by coming out with me tonight. Because you took a chance, tonight you’re already stronger than you were this morning. That’s not because of me. It’s because of you.”

I felt like my tears might return, but they wouldn’t be tears of shame, they’d be tears of gratitude.

I shook my head wonderingly. “Where did you come from?’

He took my one hand in both of his and pressed it to his heart. “I told you. Fate brought us together.”

I smiled. “I think the stars should get the credit.”

He lowered my hand so that his and mine rested on his thigh. The backs of my fingers rested against his pant leg, the muscles underneath, the physical warmth and strength of him. I felt vulnerable. And aware of my own appetites stirring.

“So?” said Josh. “Dessert?”

As if by magic, our waiter appeared with an oval, cocoa-dusted platter displaying a molten chocolate cake, raspberries, and ice cream.

“At the pleasure of the owner,” he said. As he set it down, I saw the sprig of white heather garnishing the plate.

Josh grinned. “That Kenny’s got class.”

With his eyes focused on the weeping chocolate, Josh picked up his spoon.

My eyes were on Josh. “So do you,” I said.

His flicked his eyes to mine. His gaze softened and he smiled. “May I?”

I nodded and he delicately guided his full spoon to my lips.

Josh slid his arm over my shoulder after we said goodbye to Kenny and walked out the doors of Brazzo’s. I had wanted to feel his linen shirt earlier and it was my shoulders, not my fingers, that got the first taste. I fit snuggly under his arm, right against his ribs. I took a deep breath and slid my arm around his waist, hooking my thumb into one of his belt loops. I swore I heard him groan, but the sound of passing cars brought on a flicker of doubt.

Josh felt so warm, and strong, and he was holding
me
. In that moment, I was the happiest God-forsaken girl in the world. Uh, oh. I used the G word. Only rarely did that happen in my thoughts, but in this case I was being literal. God had forsaken me, but I realized now there was freedom in that. I could wrap my arms around Josh without guilt, but with pure pleasure, and with the stirrings of love and desire. And though that felt scary, it wasn’t
bad
. It wasn’t a sin.

With Josh’s arm around me I didn’t have to put on my sweater right away. I carried it over one arm. Josh had his jacket hooked on one finger and draped over his shoulder.

“Are you up for a walk on the beach?”

“Sure.”

I felt a light buzz from the wine, the warm night, my full tummy, Josh’s presence—and my acute awareness of it—and the fading panic of having gotten a little too close to the truth. Luckily, we had swerved to avoid crashing right into it, which meant it could now stay buried in memory. I felt more in control of that now. Josh’s understanding, and his not pressing me for more details (which was interesting because he pushed me in other ways) made me feel relieved, and cared for. He was right, of course, I couldn’t stay safe in the bubble I had created with Marsha and Wayne. This summer was all about stretching myself and preparing to go to college, preparing to live a normal, full life. My work at the paint store, living on my own at the house, and now, dating Josh, were all ways for me to develop my strength. I realized I wasn’t just happy that Fate or the stars had brought Josh into my life, I was also really lucky.

As we approached the intersection of Ocean and Colorado, Josh slipped his arm from my shoulder and grabbed hold of my hand. “Is that all right?”

I smiled up at him. “Yes. In fact it’s very, very right.” He squeezed my hand and pulled me closer. The tip of my nose grazed his angled chin and for a fleeting second I thought he was going to bend his head slightly and kiss me. I wanted him to. My lips seemed to tingle in anticipation of Josh’s kiss. I felt his breath against my forehead.